A Crisis of Faith
by Anne Lessing
Summary: When Darth Maul is captured by a Jedi on his first solo mission, they must work together to survive--or perish. To complicate things, this Jedi is hiding a dark secret... Pre-Phantom Menace. Alternate universe; first in a series.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

_Five years before the Battle of Naboo..._

The shadows the Vescarian temple cast were long and inky black, perfect for concealment.

Darth Maul arched his back to rid himself of any lingering stiffness, powerful muscles rippling like ocean waves. He had been lying in wait here, hiding out, for several Standard days.

But not for much longer. His victim, his very _first _victim, was approaching.

He could feel it.

Maul's only regret, he mused, was that his master had been exquisitely clear about wanting this one brought back _alive._He had protested, but Sidious had held firm. This one was to serve as a ransom.

The Jedi, Sidious was certain, would pay dearly for him.

It was time for the Sith to reveal themselves.

Smoothly, Maul inserted himself between the statues of two long-forgotten saints and crouched, resting on his haunches, fingertips just lightly brushing the floor.

And waited.

- - - - -

A lone, brown-clad figure weaved through drunkenly stacked piles of rubble and narrow, claustrophobic hallways, as silent as the shadows it clung to. Devastated altars and icons were passed without so much as a glance. This figure, evidently, had no use for them. Its eyes were fixed straight ahead of it, never deviating, never wavering.

Suddenly, the figure stopped. It bowed its humanoid head, brow furrowed as if in deep thought. Confusion etched itself across its face.

Then the figure looked up, eyes wide with deadly surprise. It staggered back a pace or two and inadvertently stepped into a pool of light, revealing its identity: a human male.

_The Sith have returned..._

These words battered the inside of the skull of Alan Beltoola'Raf. He caught himself and slid back into deep shade, but sank to the floor, resting his head on his knees.

_The Sith have returned!_

He had _felt_ something different, an abnormal whisper of the Force, as soon as he had touched down on this barren planet. The thought had plagued him without rapprochement for hours now, and every time Alan had believed to pin it down it escaped his searching grasp.

_The Sith! The eternal enemy of peace, of order! They're supposed to be __extinct..._

Obviously, Alan reflected facetiously, they were not.

He wrung his hands and stood, rolled his shoulders, attempted to calm himself. Welcomed rationality returned. The first order of business was to exterminate this Sith. He had no doubt it knew of his presence here, and his errand. His ship was too far away to get back and radio a call for help to the temple on Coruscant; the Sith would sense him leaving, and either give chase or flee.

His only option was battle.

Alan took a deep breath and cleared his mind, vanquishing all shreds of emotion, leaving only smooth serenity. His lightsaber appeared in his hand and snapped open, releasing a bar of green and the acrid smell of plasma.

More cautious now, Alan sallied forth.

- - - - -

Maul gritted his teeth and growled, a low, animal sound. Damn it all! Why hadn't he thought to shield his presence? It was a stupid mistake, a _beginner's_ mistake.

Too late. The Jedi, walking swiftly and surely, strode through the chamber entrance.

He was a middle-aged man, fair of complexion, with silver-streaked blond hair and strikingly clear emerald eyes. His gait, his posture, his expression all suggested cool confidence. Maul watched him unblinkingly.

The Jedi halted in the center of the chamber, assuming a battle-ready posture. Sunlight streamed through the cracked ceiling above, highlighting the specks of dust and dirt that flocked together like birds.

The Jedi spoke, resolute.

"Reveal yourself, Sith. Fight me."

Maul didn't stir. How was the best way to continue?

Warily, he pulled a blaster out of its holster and leveled it. The Jedi was almost completely turned away from him, seemingly unaware.

Maul targeted the back of the Jedi's head.

And fired.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

An electric hum, a flash of neon green, a sizzling spark. The bolt harmlessly cratered the floor.

A spent and smoking blaster erupted from the shadows to clatter to the tiles at the wary Jedi's feet. Alan, unfazed, didn't glance down--the whole of his attention, every particle of his being, was focused on that dark alcove.

Then a form emerged, deliberately unhurried. It was a Zabrak--a young one; he couldn't have been more than 20 Standard years--tattooed all over with arcane Sith symbols. His pace was slow but sure, menacingly graceful, like the wild nexus of Cholganna.

Alan took this all in within a flick of the eye, but the Sith didn't grant himself a preliminary scan of his opponent. His yellow eyes bored into Alan's green ones, searching for a crack, a weakness, something to exploit.

Scarlet siamese blades flared into being. Maul held them comfortably but firmly, perfectly balanced, at waist level.

Neither man spoke.

In the anticipative stillness of the ravaged chamber, a tensing of the body, a tightening of the grip, were all the words that were needed.

Maul took the offensive, lunging forward and sweeping his saber in a low, vicious arc. When batted away, he returned the favor with a swift riposte that Alan was hard-pressed to block. The Jedi brought his saber down on his opponent's head with astonishing force, driving Maul to his knees. The Sith apprentice strained against the pillar of green, felt his arms give way a fraction of an inch. Quick as lightning, he slid backwards, leaving the Jedi's saber to rend empty air.

A volley of blows hailed his antagonist's next onslaught. Two weapons, green and red, slashed and parried in a surreal _danse macabre._The dust-clouded air crackled explosively with rival energies--the Jedi's focused but calm, the Sith's spiked with blood-lust and a hunter's frustration. Booted feet pounded the floor, sending echoes careening down the hallways.

Maul had never felt so gloriously _alive._ He brought the full force of his emotions to bear on his quarry, savoring every twist and turn of the battle, every graceful and deadly movement flowing seamlessly into the next. This is what he was _born_ to do,_ lived_ to do.

Alan sensed an opening and didn't hesitate to take it. He reached out with the Force and slammed his opponent, sending him on a collision course with the far wall. Maul hit it heavily, crashing to the unforgiving flagstone in a crumpled heap. Something snapped.

_There is no pain where strength lies!_ he sternly reminded himself, balling his hands into fists. Tasting coppery blood, he stood and shot a yellow-eyed glare around the room. The Jedi, like the cowards they were, had disappeared. All was still.

But Maul knew he was still here. He could sense his enemy's presence, and allowed himself the smallest of self-satisfied smiles. This Jedi clearly underestimated Maul's sensory abilities. He could use this to his advantage.

The Sith prowled to the center of the room, standing erect. Choking shadows (night had evidently fallen outside, the back of Maul's mind noted) stretched and widened, threatening to smother the bravely burning scarlet bars.

_Where are you?_

Maul floated between heaps of flotsam, making not a whisper of noise. Water _splished_ lightly as he tread through dirty, stagnant puddles, distorting his reflection.

He halted. No movement, no signs of life, no Jedi.

A twinge in the Force. A warning, too late.

Maul's head tilted...

Up.

And received 200 pounds of full-grown human male in the face.

Alan grabbed the Sith's lightsaber and immediately jumped away. Deactivating it, he coolly snapped it in two across his knee, loosing a furious shriek from the Sith apprentice's lips. The green blade bolted to a resting place an inch above Maul's head.

"Move and I kill you," the Jedi said quietly.

Maul was motionless. Slowly, the blade traveled down the side of his head until it hovered beneath his chin, and Maul winced at the burning heat of it. The Jedi's face was a mask of stone, but Maul realized _he's deciding what to do with me._

"Stand," the Jedi commanded.

Maul did just that, confused.

"Now," the Jedi continued, "You will do precisely as commanded. You will walk where I lead you, making no attempts at violence. Is that clear?"

"You think I'll be your prisoner, scum?" Maul snarled, insides curdling with dread.

His captor smiled, gestured to his saber. "I don't have anything better to do with this. _Walk._"

So Maul did. Out of the dusty chamber, through putrid pools of water, past the forgotten saints and inebriated piles of rubble. He observed the instinctive workings of his brain, assessing every possible mode of escape, with a kind of detached curiosity. Nothing would work. He couldn't fight; no weapon; he couldn't flee; he'd be sawed in two by a thrown saber; he couldn't bargain; obvious reasons.

But, as the pair emerged from the temple and moonlight glinted off the cold metal of the Jedi's ship, these instincts screamed until they could not be pushed away. It was heresy to simply _surrender!_He was a Sith!

Maul stopped, about ten meters from the ship, acutely aware of the insistent hum at his ear. "I didn't order you to halt," the Jedi said, a clear warning.

Maul ignored him. He wasn't going to allow himself to be led to his fate like a meek house pet. He was going to fight, and if dying on this godforsaken planet was his fate, then so be it.

Maul bent his knees and jumped straight into the air, twisting so that he would face his opponent when he landed. Thinking fast, Alan reached out with the Force to close his ship's gangway with a hydraulic hiss.

"You won't be coming quietly, I presume?" he asked, always infuriatingly calm.

Maul clenched his fists and charged.

The first of the Jedi's strikes missed him entirely, the second caught him on the leg; but Maul barely took notice. His only thought was _kill._ _Kill him!_

Alan staggered back under the sheer, desperate power of the attack. His saber was wrenched away. Throttling hands found his throat, there was an immovable weight pinning him down, he couldn't breathe, his vision spiraled away--

But Alan Beltoola'Raf was not one to go quietly, either. Under an unconscious influence, his free hand crept shakily to the front of his tunic.

Maul felt a blaster barrel shove into his abdomen, heard it discharge. For half a second he thought it had misfired, feeling nothing.

Then the pain hit.

A scream rebounded off the distant hills. Maul was dimly aware of his body rolling off his antagonist's, a shadow towering over him, head-splitting, mind-numbing, soul-robbing _pain._

And then nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_Skywalker05, thank you so much for your reviews and helpful advice! Per your suggestion, I have (hopefully) clarified just what Alan was on Vescaria for._

_- - - - - _

White.

Blinding white.

Everywhere.

Maul groaned and flung an arm over his face--an ineffective shield. Everything hurt. He smelled harsh antiseptic and sickening bacta.

White....

Gradually, the pain eased. His eyes opened to...what?

An incessant beeping droned on by his ear, and it took his addled mind a full minute to recognize it as a heart monitor.

A sickbay?

He struggled onto his elbows, flinching at an unexpected burst of pain in his torso. Bandages encircled his midsection.

Bandages.

A sickbay--makeshift.

Bacta.

He _must_ have been injured, but he couldn't recall the incident.

This didn't look like his ship.

Gingerly, he removed the bandages to reveal a small hole in his abdomen, an inch in diameter.

It didn't register.

Not a knife wound. Not a lightsaber. A blaster, then. When could he have--

Maul's eyes widened. A ragged gasp echoed in the sparse room.

The Jedi!

The Jedi took him prisoner!

Maul snarled and sat fully up, stonewalling the fresh flood of spasms that threatened to prostrate him.

He would not be a prisoner.

Never.

Crawling off the hard mattress, he searched the room from the floor. His tunic was retrieved and slid back on, along with his boots. His lightsaber was gone, but that couldn't be helped. He had to move quickly, and sabers were replaceable. A plan was formulating.

The door _swished_ open, and the red-spiked shadow set off down the narrow corridor. He weaved slightly as he walked, running a gloved hand across the wall for support. At every doorway, he stopped and thoroughly scanned the room before moving on.

"Hello, masters."

Maul halted, sharply inspecting the door before him. It was the Jedi's voice. There were more than one on this ship?

But when the response came, flattened and fluctuating, it became clear the source was a holoprojector.

"Alan. Worried for you, we were. Retrieve the Sith holocron, did you?"

Maul slid to the floor, intent on the exchange. Alan. That was the Jedi's name.

"No, masters. I found...something more interesting."

Silence.

"A Sith. They're back."

Silence.

"Alan...are you sure?" The second voice was deep and admirably controlled, given the information he had just received.

"I'm positive, Master Windu. The man I fought was a Sith. He suffered a blaster wound and is in my care--out cold with tranquilizers."

Maul allowed himself an invisible smile.

"Alan...grievous news, this is. But certain, you seem. The Sith...." As the first speaker trailed off, the second spoke.

"Keep him in a coma, Alan," the man named Windu ordered. "Do not tell anyone else of this--yet. We don't want this information escaping prematurely."

"Tense political times, these are, in no need of yet another catalyst," the first speaker agreed.

"What do you wish me to do with him?" the Jedi--Alan--asked.

A pause.

"You cannot bring him to Coruscant," Windu said. "Obviously. But there are other Jedi outposts. Take him to one, have him questioned. Did you say he was a master or apprentice?"

"He is an apprentice. When we fought, he seemed relatively inexperienced."

Maul's brow furrowed, but he had heard enough. If he stayed too long, he might be found. Slowly, he picked himself off the floor and carried on, away from the droning voices, searching for his target: an escape pod. He could only hope this ship had one.

Suddenly, a flood of warmth seeped onto the front of his tunic. He looked down and cursed; his wound was bleeding again. Speed was of the essence now, but his mind still refused to shake off the choking cover of the tranquilizers.

One thing at a time.

The escape pod. There was _always--_

"There's no escape pod, you know."

Maul halted.

"I_ thought _I heard something. You're a smart one, I'll give you that. I thought, if you did escape, you would attack me straightaway. But I gave you enough tranquilizer to keep you asleep for a week!"

The Jedi stepped around Maul to face him directly, face a mixture of wonder, vigilance, and burgeoning respect. "You'll have to go back to the cell," he stated carefully, lightsaber flashing to his hand.

_No._

"Yes," Maul whispered, a mere emittance of breath, as he slumped against the wall. The Jedi lightly took him by the shoulder.

_Now._

Maul's forced his hazy mind into battle mode, reaching out with the Force and snatching the Jedi's saber away. Under no conscious direction, he began to run.

_Escape._

The even beat of running feet surged up behind him. Two snaps of a lightsaber's ignition sounded through the hallway.

_Two?_

Then the first strike arrived.

Maul barely had enough time to block it. The Jedi was using Maul's saberstaff, obviously uncomfortable with the design, but he was more than determined. Maul turned to accost his opponent, body screaming for rest, and ducked another vicious blow.

Vicious.

A very _un-_Jedi thing to be.

Maul's shaking arm couldn't bat away the next attack, and his saber skittered away. The Jedi pinned him against the wall, face pale and damp under the harsh fluorescent lights, red blade turning his green eyes orange.

_Last chance._

"That's it," Maul snarled. "_Use_ your anger. Let it control you." Through a filter of near-delirium, he saw the Jedi's face twist. "Let it rule you. _Use_ it!"

The Jedi faltered; the pressure on Maul eased the slightest amount. "Your mind game will not influence me, Sith," he countered, but the look on his face told a different story.

"You think this is a game?" Maul shot back. "I see the anger in you. The rage in your movements. Even now, you look at me as though you wish to _kill_ me. Very unlike your kind--wouldn't you agree?"

His antagonist looked stricken, and Maul realized just how close to home he had hit. Interesting.

The Jedi stepped backward. "I will not lose control," he said steadily, "and you will come with me. I am not desirous of a fight, and neither, I am sure, are you." He glanced meaningfully at the front of Maul's now-dripping tunic.

In a lightning flash, Maul threw a right hook to the Jedi's face and darted down the hallway. This time, he was able to turn the corner and duck into the nearest door he saw before the pursuit began.

No escape pod.

Tripping, he caught himself on a smooth metal object, hot to the touch. The room was dim, illuminated only by faint flickers of neon light. Cables purposefully crisscrossed the floor.

_Engines,_ his mind said, and it took a moment to reach his mouth.

"Engines."

That's it.

Engines.

He grabbed a fist-full of the cables and pulled. They snapped away from a hidden socket in the wall, freeing a shower of sparks. The round cylinder was next, crumpled like so much tinfoil.

The door opened, but he took no notice. His path of destruction quickly carved a swath through the cramped room, pulverizing anything within arm's length. Something exploded.

A voice swam to him, accompanied by strong hands pinning his arms to his sides. "What are you _doing?"_ the Jedi yelled over the tortured screeches of metal. "You'll kill us both!"

Maul twisted, but didn't say a word. His body was finally rebelling against his will, refusing to move another step. Smoke drifted up from the crushed cables on the floor.

Blackness greeted him next, then the hallway's fluorescent lighting. Blackness again, then a control panel. The Jedi sat next to him in the commander's chair, dashing off commands into a screen and continually checking hysterically beeping panels. Something had obviously gone very wrong.

All the better.

Maul, for the second time that day, allowed himself a smile--this one mockingly visible. The Jedi glanced at him, exasperated, before continuing to punch away at the panels. The entire ship shuddered.

The blackness again enfolded him in her cold embrace, but this time, she was more than welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_This is a rewrite of the previous chapter 4, for those of you who were wondering why you've gotten yet another update for a fourth chapter! I decided to delete the previous one and start anew--although I did save the reviews for the first draft. In the interim between the publication of the first draft and this one, I've really delved into and shaped Maul and Alan, and I now finally feel that they themselves are speaking to me, telling me how to write the story, rather than me putting words in their mouths. Maul, especially, has deepened as a character--and I've discovered that we have more in common than I care to admit. I hope that my characterization of him has improved, and that it will be readily evident in the coming chapters. I will get around to redoing the first, second, and third chapters, but those I will merely replace instead on deleting and reposting. I also rewrote the synopsis, changed the rating, and changed the categories. _

_This story has grown far beyond anything I at first imagined, and it is easily one of the most introspective pieces I've ever written--I can feel myself growing as a writer, which is quite an exciting experience! I really must thank my dedicated reviewers for their support and criticism; without you, ACOF would never have gotten off the ground, and certainly wouldn't be as good as it is now. It's rare that my stories make it to the paper as vivid as I imagine them, but I think I'm doing pretty well so far. :) May the Force be with you._

- - - - -

It took Maul a while to swim out of the blackness, when he finally awoke.

At first, he wondered sleepily why he was in a cockpit, and why it was so oppressively stifling; then the past came flooding back. He would have sat bolt-upright were it not for the pained stiffness in his torso, and he remembered with a pang what _that_ was from, too.

He closed his eyes. He had failed: failed his master, failed his cause. Not only had he been captured by a Jedi, he was injured, and the engines were severely damaged, if not outright destroyed. That had been necessary, of course--to prevent further degradation at the hands of his captors--but now they were adrift in space. He opened his eyes to glare out at the twinkling stars through the cockpit window, as though they were to blame for his predicament.

The control panel caught his gaze; it was a mess. The buttons and screens that weren't completely black or pulsing scarlet were smoking jauntily. One panel read "life support non-operational," and flashed with an authoritative steadiness.

The would explain the stagnant heat, then--they were running out of oxygen. He stared at the monitor, thinking.

The Jedi was either dead or in the process of fixing things. Maul at first wished for the former, but cruel fact came down hard: he couldn't possibly hope to repair life support, engines, and whatever else might need fixing in his state with a hole in his stomach. He would, he thought with a curious sense of detachment, need the Jedi alive if he himself were to live. The irony of the thing was nearly unbearable.

So, then. He'd have to make sure the Jedi was alive (now he knew what he felt--faint, nauseous disbelief), and then treat his own wound, which burned with an infected fury. Slowly, he eased himself out of the chair--and the door was locked.

He halted, laid a hand on it, and summarily crumpled it to a durasteel ball--it drained him, to be sure, but elegantly proved his point. Foolish Jedi, thinking to contain _him._

"You're awake, I see," a voice floated from down the hallway. "You could have just undone the lock, you know."

Maul rounded a corner. The Jedi--he didn't remember his name, and didn't care to--sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, both arms immersed to the elbows in a rectangular hole in the wall. He looked up when Maul appeared, then returned to his task.

"But I suppose that's not your style."

Maul grunted and sat, sitting cross-legged as best as he could, separated from his captor by the scattering of hardware between them. He glanced at the niche the Jedi was working out of.

"Life support," the Jedi said, conversationally. "The fire in the engine room spread to the wall opposite this. Everything's been melted." He pulled out a handful of fused wires. "As you can see. You really did a number on my ship."

Maul didn't answer. He wanted to leave, to tend to his wound and escape the foul presence of the Jedi...but something bid him to stay. Something radiating off the Jedi, that he was trying very hard to conceal. Fear? No, not as strong...apprehension. Still noteworthy; why would he be afraid of an injured, weaponless prisoner? This, and the burst of anger during the fight before...

This Jedi was not all that he seemed. Even the tone of his voice...rigid with control.

"How long before it's fixed?" Maul asked, also conversational.

The Jedi looked surprised that he had spoken. "I'm not sure. Hopefully before we run out of oxygen, but I can't guarantee that."

Maul observed he didn't look him directly in the face.

"Are you truly Jedi?"

The hallway plunged into silence; the clinking and grinding of metal halted as the Jedi froze. But the interruption lasted mere seconds, for the Jedi's hands resumed their work, although his face was now troubled beneath its calm veneer.

"I haven't a clue what you mean."

"Yes. You do."

Silence again. This time, the Jedi straightened and folded his hands carefully in his lap. He did not look at Maul.

"If there _was_ something wrong with me, you'd hardly be the person I'd discuss it with."

"So you're admitting there is something wrong?"

"_If,_ dear sir."

Maul cocked his head. The Jedi hadn't handled this well, and he knew it; but still he attempted to cover up whatever he really was. Maul wouldn't go so far as to venture that the dark side was present in his foe, but he could sense something there, a stirring. If he could exploit it...he had never been one for mind games; he considered them weak. But this time, they may prove useful.

The Jedi must have noticed something off in Maul's gaze, for he abruptly changed the subject. "If we're going to survive," he said, "I'll need help with this." He gestured to the hole in the wall, clearly meaning for him to come over and help.

With some trepidation, Maul did; first he wanted to avoid his gaze, then he invited him closer...it was very confusing, he had to admit. He lowered himself to the floor, keeping his body as far away from the Jedi's as possible, and picked up a soldering iron.

"Name's Alan, by the way," the Jedi _(?)_ said lightly, as though nothing had just happened.

As they worked, the hallway grew steadily hotter.

* * *

_I know this is rather short, but the fifth chapter will be here soon._


End file.
